So McTurpin had come back.
He had been about to ask for further details when one of the hurrying
workmen called his informant away. After all it did not matter much just
how or when the gambler had returned. They were sure to meet sooner or
later. Once more Windham's hand unconsciously sought the pistol in his
pocket. At the entrance of the Bella Union he halted, shook the rain
from his hat, scraped the mud from his feet upon a pile of gunnysacks
which served as doormats, and went into the brilliant room. Since the
temporary closing of the Eldorado, this place had become the most
elegant and crowded of the city's gaming palaces. A mahogany bar
extended the length of the building; huge hanging lamps surrounded by
ornate clusters of prisms lent an air of jeweled splendor which the
large mirrors and pyramids of polished glasses back of the counter
enhanced. On a platform at the rear were several Mexican musicians in
rich native costumes twanging gaily upon guitars and mandolins. Now and
then one of them sang, or a Spanish dancer pirouetted, clicking her
castanets and casting languishing glances at the ring of auditors about
her. These performers were invariably showered with coins.
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